Why I Always Have—and Always Will—Call Myself “Catholic” Before “Christian”

From Peter Kwasniewski

I hear it often — “I’m a Christian” — as if that means something definite. But today, it doesn’t. The word has been stretched so thin it could cover half the planet and still not touch a shred of truth. Everyone claims it. Pastors with podcasts, influencers with crosses in their bios, and politicians whose moral compasses spin like ceiling fans. It’s all become a label of convenience, not conviction. That’s why, before I call myself a Christian, I call myself a Catholic. Across the Christian world, belief has splintered into tens of thousands (https://www.livescience.com/christian...) of denominations — Baptists, Methodists, Pentecostals, Anglicans, Lutherans, and countless others, each convinced they’ve cracked the divine code. Some emphasize personal experience, others prioritize Scripture. Some worship in solemn silence; others in stadiums that feel more like rock concerts than reverence. There’s nothing inherently wrong with variety — the Christian story has always allowed for difference. But somewhere along the line, the center started to dissolve. The faith that once formed civilizations now struggles to form a sentence everyone can agree on. Once, Christianity bound empires, shaped laws, and inspired cathedrals that reached toward heaven itself. Now, it’s dissolved into a puddle of personal brands and private revelations. Where there was once a shared creed, there are now competing and incompatible interpretations. Catholicism stands apart. Not always in moral superiority but in scope and depth. It’s the Mother Church, not a sibling trying to reinvent the family name. Its strength lies in its coherence — creed, confession, continuity. When Rome says “Catholic,” it means universal. The sacraments in Lagos are the sacraments in Lisbon, Lima, and Los Angeles. The same prayers echo through marble halls and modest rooms alike. There’s a structure. There’s a rhythm that resists reinvention. That’s no small feat in an era where the Ten Commandments are treated like suggestions—or worse, rough drafts. Read the rest of this article at Pelican+ (https://pelicanquill.com/snippet/56324)